Chapter 64

Chapter 64: Betrothing a Cat (Part 3)

Not good.

The warning pounded through her head like a drum.

Inside, her guard was up to the ceiling. Outside, she smiled like nothing was wrong. “Sure. No problem.

It’s just that the silver you gave me is heavy. I’ll need a moment to count how much wine there is before I deliver it.”

A stall. That was all it was—stalling. If she could delay one breath, she would.

If she’d known she’d run into him today, she would’ve stayed home and rotted from boredom. Damn it.

Sir Gu didn’t let her have even that.

He pinched his fingers together casually, did the math in two breaths, and named the exact amount needed. Her excuse died on the spot.

As if he hadn’t noticed the corner of her mouth tightening, he continued, “I heard Young Lord Shen can use word-spirit to turn into wine. Your skill is extraordinary. I’m fond of wine as well, so I prepared proper vessels early at the Radiant Spirit Pavilion.

You only need to come in person. There’s no need to prepare anything else.”

His smile was warm. Shen Tang was screaming obscenities in her head.

[Damn it.]

He’d tested her this far already. If she kept dodging, she’d hand him a handle to grab. So she nodded, sweet as sugar. “Perfect.”

At the same time, she silently recited the word-spirit Chu Yao had taught her: [Hearts Are Walled Off].

Whether it did anything… who knew.

Sir Gu’s expression control was flawless. And with that constant sickly look, it was hard to tell what he was thinking even when he wasn’t hiding it.

So Shen Tang did what she always did—kept her eyes open and her options ugly.

Her gaze slid to his neck.

Slender. Pale. Faint blue veins beneath the skin.

Long illness had left him all angles and bone. A normal person that thin would look like a corpse. He didn’t. Somehow, he still looked… clean. Almost elegant.

A neck like that, she thought, would open with one sword cut.

She brightened her smile. “I’ll go with you, sir. Thank you for the trouble.”

“No trouble,” Sir Gu said.

They walked side by side, each with their own thoughts.

Sir Gu broke the silence first, conversational, almost intimate. “Young Lord Shen’s talent is enviable. It’s only been a day or two, and you already learned how to prevent mind-peeking.

At your age, I was nowhere near that.”

Shen Tang snorted inwardly and tightened her guard.

A scholar’s mouth could sell sand in a desert.

And “Young Lord Shen” again—was that supposed to soften her up? Lower her defenses so he could dig into her head?

Fine. If he wanted to play games, she could play too.

She looked up with wide-eyed innocence. “Sir Gu, I have a question.”

“Ask,” Sir Gu said.

Shen Tang gestured at the busy street. “When you mind-peek, do you read one person at a time, or can you read everyone?”

Sir Gu tilted his head. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is whether you’ve cursed yourself to death,” Shen Tang said blandly. “I once heard there are two things in this world you can’t look at directly—the blazing sun, and the human heart.

People smile to your face and curse you in their heads. If you find out, they don’t reflect—they just hate you more.

Even strangers passing by will judge everything they see. They’ll call someone ugly in a strange way, or think a sick man won’t live long.

Hearing that kind of inner voice all day? That’s bad luck.”

Sir Gu’s eyes shifted slightly. His tone stayed mild. “Then are you the same inside and out, Young Lord Shen? Or different?”

Shen Tang’s smile vanished. “Same.”

“Oh?” Sir Gu sounded unconvinced. “And how do you know?”

“Because when I’m cursing inside, I curse out loud too,” Shen Tang said, dead serious. “I curse behind your back and to your face. Isn’t that the definition of the same inside and out?”

Sir Gu fell silent for a moment, then nodded like a man forced to concede a point.

“Fair,” he said. “Your luck must be good as well.”

If her luck were bad, with that mouth, she would’ve been shoved into a sack a long time ago.

The air between them crackled—Shen Tang tossing barbs, Sir Gu taking them without flinching.

When they neared the Radiant Spirit Pavilion, Sir Gu spoke again, voice smooth. “The menial you bought from the Moonlight Tower earlier—surnamed Chu. Do you know his background?”

Shen Tang didn’t miss a beat. “Do I need to know someone’s background to buy a menial?”

Sir Gu didn’t look convinced.

The entertainment ward wasn’t only a place for cheap pleasure. It also handled banquets, music, dance—paid performances for households that wanted to show off. Red courtesans, chaste courtesans, mu si ci an, court dancers… whatever a client wanted, they could find it.

It was face. It was business.

So the Radiant Spirit Pavilion was thriving. Even in the daytime, soft, decadent strings drifted out like smoke.

Shen Tang followed behind Sir Gu at an unhurried pace, eyes straight ahead, pointedly ignoring the dancers and singers.

If “proper” could be carved into a face, hers would’ve had it engraved.

She asked, “The women exiled to Madam Gong… are they here too?”

“Some of them,” Sir Gu said.

“And the rest?”

“Gone on the road,” Sir Gu replied, flat as stone.

Shen Tang nearly choked. “That’s… helpful.”

Sir Gu seemed like a regular or honored guest. The moment he entered, a courtesan came forward and guided them into a private room that was elegant in a rich, polished way.

The room was huge. A large drum platform sat inside like an indoor stage.

As soon as they stepped in, servants carried in one empty wine jar after another.